


High Stakes Negotiation

by spurious



Category: 8UPPERS
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Gunplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-16
Updated: 2011-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-23 19:12:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spurious/pseuds/spurious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It's never been a secret between them that Ace is kind of into Arsenal's guns.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	High Stakes Negotiation

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another kink_bingo fic. This one was written for the free space, for which I chose the kink "guns." For the record, everything I know about guns has been gleaned from action movies and the internet.

Ace twists out of Arsenal's grip on his wrist as soon as they're alone. He takes a step back and smiles, bouncing from foot to foot. 

"Stop looking like you're about fight me," Arsenal says, but then he shoves Ace against the door. Ace's grin widens. 

"Ready to give up?" he says, and Arsenal just wants to fuck that grin off his face, make his mouth slack and open. 

"Hardly." He bites the inside of his cheek. Lying's not really his strong suit. "I brought you out here because you keep bugging the customers." 

Ace rolls his eyes. "You know exactly how to improve my mood."

"I will not clean the bathroom in exchange for a blowjob," Arsenal says. "You're gonna give me one, though."

Ace's eyes brighten, and Arsenal follows their path as Ace glances at his holsters. 

"You're gonna have to make me," he says. His voice is rough, like he's already mentally skipped the foreplay and is three-quarters of the way to orgasm. 

It only takes a split-second for Arsenal to have his gun out and the muzzle pressed under Ace's chin. 

"On your knees," he says.

Ace licks his lips, and then he's down. The sound of his knees knocking against the ground is audible, like he'd fallen rather than knelt. 

It's never been a secret between them that Ace is kind of into Arsenal's guns. The first time anything had happened between them had been years ago, when Arsenal was trying to teach Ace how to shoot. Ace wasn't particularly good at it, and he gave up partway through, opted for shoving his hand down Arsenal's pants instead. Arsenal, for his part, certainly wasn't opposed to the whole thing, and he had to admit he loved the rush of power and danger he felt standing over Ace with a gun in his hand. So, when Ace makes it obvious he wants to play a bit, Arsenal's all too happy to oblige.

Ace is looking up at him, his eyes hooded, waiting for Arsenal to make his next move. Arsenal takes it slow, though, lowering his gun so it's pointed at Ace's forehead, but still a good arm's length away from him. He peers down the barrel and Ace meets his eyes, licking his lips.

"Come on," Ace says, impatient, "you can threaten a little better than that."

Arsenal smirks, then uses his free hand to grab Ace by the hair and tug his head back. Ace's mouth falls open and Arsenal touches the gun to the swell of his lower lip. He can hear Ace's breath hitch. He pushes the gun forward a bit, so it's just barely inside Ace's mouth.

"It's loaded, you know," he says, because it is, and because thought of how dangerous this actually is makes Arsenal's skin tingle with power and a little bit of fear. It must get to Ace, too, because he groans, low and deep in his throat.

"You're going to suck my cock," Arsenal goes on, getting into it a bit, "but first I want you to suck on this. Show me you can do a good job."

Ace's eyes flutter shut as his mouth closes around the barrel of the gun. Arsenal watches his cheeks hollow out as the barrel disappears farther into his mouth, and he _really_ wants to say "fuck it" and just shove his dick into Ace's mouth right now because it looks so good, and he knows it'll feel even better, but he manages to hold himself back. He tightens his hand in Ace's hair, and after a moment he pulls him back. The barrel is shining with spit, and there's a part of Arsenal that's already thinking about how he's going to have to give it a thorough cleaning later.

"How'd it look?" Ace asks, smirking.

Arsenal shrugs. "You'll do, I suppose."

Ace laughs and his eyes flick from Arsenal's face, to the gun, to the now rather obvious bulge of his erection in his pants. He reaches out, undoes Arsenal's pants and pulls them down his thighs, along with his underwear. Just as he's leaning in, Arsenal remembers the gun in his right hand and impulsively presses the muzzle to Ace's temple.

" _Fuck_ ," Ace groans, shuddering. His mouth opens and he doesn't move, letting Arsenal shift forward to slide his cock into his mouth.

"Fuck," Arsenal echoes as Ace's lips close around him and he sucks. He doesn't quite trust himself not to accidentally pull the trigger once Ace really starts in on him, so he pulls the gun back, returns it to his holster. Ace's eyes flutter open for a second and he pauses, but then Arsenal tugs on his hair and he starts sucking again, his head bobbing and one hand wrapped tight and slick around the base. Ace gives head totally without reservation, messy and wet, going down until he gags and then just doing it again, and Arsenal just grips his hair and tries not to let his knees give out.

Arsenal feels the vibration of a moan around his cock, and when he looks down, he sees Ace's jeans are undone and he's got his hand down his pants, working at his cock. The image goes straight to Arsenal's dick, and suddenly he's right at the edge, groaning loudly and thrusting a little into Ace's mouth as he comes.

When Ace pulls back, his lips are shiny with spit, swollen and red. Arsenal drops down to his knees and kisses him, tasting his own come in Ace's mouth, and Ace sucks on his tongue, bites at his lower lip. Now that he has two hands free, he's pulled his pants down a bit and is jerking himself off quickly. Arsenal pulls back to watch, feeling out of breath, and impulsively draws a gun. Ace bites his lower lip, watching through dark eyes, as Arsenal brings the gun to his forehead. Arsenal drags the muzzle across Ace's skin, down the line of his jaw, over his parted lips, until it's pressed up under his chin again.

"You close?" Arsenal asks, his voice low.

Ace nods. He's got his eyes squeezed shut now, lower lip caught between his teeth.

"Come," Arsenal says, just as he pulls back the hammer.

The sound Ace makes when he comes is loud enough that Arsenal's almost sure people will hear it, even over the blasting music of the club, but he's not particularly concerned about that, not with Ace arching and shaking right in front of him. He pulls his gun back, lets the hammer down, and slides it smoothly back into the holster as Ace pants, trying to catch his breath. When he catches Arsenal looking at him, though, he smirks, all infuriating overconfidence again.

"So," he says, "about you doing my chores..."

Arsenal's hand is back on the gun before Ace even finishes the sentence.


End file.
